Conspiracy
by Filthy Filthy Youth
Summary: Vegeta is convinced everyone is in on Bulma's plot to seduce him. Everyone.


This is supposed to be really ridiculous. It's also my first attempt at writing DBZ fanfiction in...ages. But yeah, anyway, it's a funny, mysterious-three-years-one-shot. Instead of sexy, brooding, dramatic B/V, I think it's worthwhile to get humorous.

* * *

><p>The shrill, piercing laughter hit his ears, followed by the mingling stench of those strange perfumes that Earthlings covered themselves in. It was a group of Bulma's friends, he knew it. Since that weakling Yamcha had finally gotten lost permanently, they had become an unfortunately permanent fixture in Capsule Corporation.<p>

Vegeta almost preferred Yamcha, at least he wasn't shrill.

He tried to sneak into the kitchen for his traditional light-night snack without being seen (an accomplishment he had managed once in the four nights in a row they had been at the place he wa grudgingly calling home, the other nights they saw him but he ignored them), but he heard one woman say something to Bulma about him.

"Is that the guy that sent poor Yamcha running? Bulma?"

Vegeta could almost hear the blue-haired woman's nerves snapping from his vantage point. He delighted in having chased Yamcha off, and would never hide such a fact from anyone.

"Who told you that?" he heard her ask sharply.

"People talk, silly! But really, you've got to fess up. Every time he comes in here you stare at him like he's going to embarrass you in front of us, that's so relationship behavior!" the squealy-voiced woman chirped.

Wait. Wait. No. No. Getting rid of Yamcha was one wonderful thing, but did her friends think – did that moron Yamcha think – that he had some kind of sexual relationship with that infernal, shrieking harpy?

"Don't be ridiculous! He's…er. Well, I don't know if he's my friend or not, but he's staying here as a favor to my friend Goku," she explained, and he almost wanted to go out there and correct her, because that was _so wrong. _"He's kinda homeless right now. But it's nothing like whatever rumors Yamcha's starting." Bulma managed to sound completely sincere and, dare he say it - a touch concerned, while simultaneously beating his pride to death with a mallet shaped like Kakarot's head.

He hated his life, turning on his heel and finally disappearing into the kitchen. Somehow hearing himself referred to as a pity case and in some way undesirable had killed his post-training contentment, and he threw together his sandwich moodily, not hearing the other women leaving as he sat down to eat.

"Hey, Vegeta, fancy seeing you here," she said, but with a heavy coating of sarcasm. This was always where they saw each other – in the kitchen.

He decided to clear up a few matters while he had the woman's attention. "I'm _not_ a charity case," he said flatly, narrowing his dark eyes up at her.

"What?" she asked, but then her eyebrows rose. "Oh, you were _spying_ on me."

"Not spying," he snarled.

"That's just an excuse to shut up my friends, okay?" she said, ignoring his temper and crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't tell them that you stay here because I like having you around, it would be all over the tabloids. And I can't explain about the kid from the future or the whole…you know, alien thing either. You just have to get over it."

He finished his sandwich and started in on a bowl of assorted fruit, still looking grumpy, but satiated for the time being.

"So why were you spying on me and my friends?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

"As if I could escape the shrieking if I wanted to," he snapped.

"We do not shriek!" she said, her voice rising.

"You're shrieking right now, you stupid woman." Finishing his meal at last, he stood from the table. "I have a question," he said before Bulma could get out an angry reply.

"What is it?"

"Do you surround yourself with stupider, uglier women to make yourself seem smarter and prettier?" he asked with a devious smirk, leaving Bulma looking absolutely baffled behind him. She didn't know if that had been a compliment, an insult or some combination of the two. If he had wanted to imply she was stupid and ugly, why would he have said "smart_er_ and pretti_er_" instead of "smart and pretty"?

Then she thought maybe she was overanalyzed things. It was time for bed.

* * *

><p>Fate decided it hated Vegeta the next day. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he was on his 2015th push up and had built up a good sweat in the high gravity.<p>

Kakarot was visiting.

He saw the familiar, spiky head peering through the window of the Gravity Room, holding up some kind of basket. He pointed to it repeated and mouthed something that might have been "FOOD!". The idea of eating a light lunch appealed to him, even though the notion of being around that moron nauseated him. Maybe he could just steal some food and eat alone.

So he turned off the gravity simulation and exited, finding Kakarot and his brat sitting a few feet away, a vast array of foods laid out in front of them. "Come eat, Vegeta! Then we can spar!" he chirped happily. His brat was engrossed in some kind of book, and Kakarot frowned when he noticed Vegeta looking.

"Chi-chi makes Gohan study a little bit everyday even though training is more important!" he explained unnecessarily, since Vegeta didn't actually care. He gathered up an armful of the best looking stuff and turned to walk away, but the other Saiyan let out a noise of protest.

"Sit down, Vegeta!" someone else called from somewhere else entirely. Bulma was lying down on some absurd looking chair in…not very much clothing at all.

Damn woman. He hated her and her tiny underwear.

He sat down and started eating, not acknowledging the other two people sitting near him. He was hungry, and if he had to eat near them to get a chance to fight Kakarot, he would take that.

Goku had ulterior motives for his visit – while he was happy to see Bulma and her family, sure, and sparring with Vegeta would be fun too – he was concerned about Trunks' existence. Piccolo had tried to tell him not to interfere in any way, but he didn't see what one teensy little visit could hurt. Trunks was a good kid and he really wanted him to exist, and there was a time limit on these kinds of things.

He tried to remember how long Chi-chi had been pregnant.

"Goku, you look like you're trying to lay an egg, are you okay?" Bulma asked, having walked over and snatched away some of the Saiyan's picnic.

Vegeta looked away. "Put on some clothes you vulgar woman!" he finally shouted. She lobbed a loaf of bread at his head and turned her gaze to Kakarot.

Kakarot had an oddly devious look on his face.

Bulma flounced away after a moment of being ignored.

"Were Saiyan women very pretty, Vegeta?" Kakarot asked, sounding like the naïve idiot Vegeta was used to. This question gave him pause, however, because he didn't remember. Plus, he had been probably around the age where all boys – alien or human – thought girls had cooties or some space equivalent.

"They were more practically proportioned," he said. "Why do you ask such stupid questions?"

"Just curious!"

"There was none of that," he said, jabbing a finger at Bulma and her mother, who had appeared in a billowy blue dress and her usual white apron. They were flimsy looking, with tiny waists and large chests – neither of which made for practical fighting. Also, the hair. That wasn't right either.

"Bulma is considered one of the prettiest women on this planet, you know!" he said brightly.

Vegeta's eye started twitching. "I will kill you if you keep blathering on!" he snapped, standing up and sending several chicken legs flying through the air.

"Oh, you're ready to train? Great!"

* * *

><p>That night, he noticed that Bulma's female companions were suspiciously absent. Entering the kitchen and trying to think nothing significant of this, he saw the blue-haired scientist sitting at the table with a large bowl in front of her.<p>

"I thought ice cream would be a nice reward for not blowing off Goku's head today," she said.

"Not for lack of trying."

"Eat the damn ice cream, Vegeta."

He sat down, glaring at the woman across from him, but he picked up the spoon and started eating. One things that he liked about Earth was chocolate, he would admit that.

Things began to add up as he watched Bulma eat from the bowl of ice cream, her eyes fixed on the quickly melting chocolate. Her friends suggesting they were involved, Goku calling her pretty and asking about Saiyan women, that moron scar-face's abrupt departure…

"You."

She looked up.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" he asked.

She froze, ice cream dripping off of her spoon as it hung in the air, halfway between her mouth and the bowl. He didn't know whether to prepare for full-on seduction (he could resist that) and screaming (he could leave), so he just watched her.

Defying all expectations, Bulma burst into laughter, dropping her spoon and covering her face with her hands. "Vegeta…!" she wheezed. "Seriously?" she asked, as she gasped for breath, still giggling behind a hand.

"What?" he snapped.

"Why would you think I wanted to seduce you?"

Now that he thought about it, that might have been a bit of a jump in logic. "What's so funny about the idea?" he asked back, realizing that this was the second night in a row she had acted like sleeping with him was ridiculous. He was Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans!

Any woman would kill to sleep with him, that was how it was supposed to be.

Not, of course, that he had any interest in this particular woman at all. It was just an attack on his pride, that was all.

"It's not funny!" she said quickly. "Don't be so damn sensitive, Prince Fathead!"

"Don't call me Fathead, woman!"

"I bet you want to sleep with me and just don't want to admit it. You're a prince, right? You think you should be pursued by a lowly wench like me," she concluded, thoughtfully tapping her finger against her chin.

Prettiest woman on Earth or not, he didn't want to have sex with her.

He really didn't.

"Maybe if you'd tape your mouth closed," he settled on saying.

Okay, Vegeta couldn't lie to himself anymore. He would have sex with Bulma.

Earth was doing terrible, horrible things to his brain.

Bulma glared. "Ha-ha. Look, homeboy, if you want a taste, just ask nicely and I might think about maybe saying yes. Things have changed since you first started staying here. I actually kind of like you," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

Rolling his eyes, he stood up and walked around the table towards the exit of the kitchen. To his surprise, and continuing annoyance, Bulma followed him. "Go away woman!"

"Our bedrooms are in the same direction you stupid jerk!" she snapped back, but as he turned to enter his own sleeping chambers, she grabbed his arm, leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"What was that for?"

"I told you, I actually kind of like you," she said with a shrug and a wink.

He did not understand that woman at all; this was probably part of her ridiculous conspiracy. And yet he couldn't help himself anymore, because dammit, if she wanted to try and sneak into his bedroom, then let her.

So he pulled her back, and he kissed her. He could have sworn she smirked – victoriously – into the kiss. She had defeated him, this time. But it was well worth it for the time being.

He didn't even tape her mouth shut.


End file.
